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THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


Works of 

Annie Fellows Johnston 

THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES 

(Trade Mark) 

The Little Colonel * » ♦ . $ .50 

(Trade Mark) 

The Giant Scissors 50 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky . .50 

The Little Colonel Stories . . 1.50 

(Trade Mark) 

(Containing in one volume the three stories, “ The 
Little Colonel,” “The Giant Scissors,” and “Two 
Little Knights of Kentucky.”) 

The Little ColoneFs House Party ♦ 1.50 

(Trade Mark) 

The Little ColoneFs Holidays . 1.50 

(Trade Mark) 

The Little ColoneFs Hero • • 1.50 

(Trade Mark) 

The Little Colonel at Boarding-School 1.50 

(Trade Mark) 

The Little Colonel in Arizona • 1.50 

(Trade Mark) 

OTHER BOOKS 

Joel : A Boy of Galilee ♦ * • $1.50 

Big Brother 50 

Ole Mammy^s Torment* • ♦ .50 

The Story of Dago . . • .50 

Cicely 50 

Aunt Tiza's Hero 50 

The Quilt That Jack Built • • .50 

Asa Holmes 1.00 

Flip^s ** Islands of Providence ♦ 1.00 

Songs Ysame (Poems, with Albion 
Fellows Bacon) • • * • 1.00 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
2(X) Summer Street Boston, Mass. 





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HIS SERIOUS LITTLE FACE PUCKERED INTO AN 


ANXIOUS FROWN 


(See page 4) 


Cogg Corner Series 

THE QUILT 
THAT JACK BUILT 

HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


By 

Annie Fellows Johnston 

Author of “ The Little Colonel ” Series, “ Big Brother,” 
“ The Story of Dago,” “ Joel : A Boy of Galilee,” etc. 


Illustrated by 
Etheldred B. Barry 



Boston ^ ^ ^ 

L. C. Page & Company 
^ ^ ^ ipoj 




i ijl 


OCT 2B 1904 



GLASS ^ )(Xo.Ha 


doeyrfgtit Effiry 


iOG2>^^ 
COPY B 



Copyright^ igo4 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


Published October, 1904 


COLONIAL PRESS 

ElectrotyPed and Printed hy C. H. Simonds Co. 

Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 


TO 

THE BOY 

WHO HAS MADE ALL BOYHOOD DEAR TO ME 


MY ONLY SON 

foljn 



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THE 

QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


‘‘ Johnny make a quilt! ” repeated Rob 
Marshall, with a shout of laughter. “ I’d as 
soon expect to see a wild buffalo knitting 
mittens ! ” 

“ But you’re not to speak of it outside the 
family, Rob,” his mother hastened to say, “ and 
you must not tease the little fellow. You older 
children have ways of earning pocket-money, 
— Rhoda with her painting, and you with 
your bent iron work, but Johnny hasn’t had 
a cent of income all fall. You know when 
your father explained what a hard winter this 
would be, and said we must economize in every 
way possible, Johnny offered to give up the 
little amount I allowed him every week for 


2 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


chores. He has been doing his work ever 
since without pay. Now, he is wild to buy 
Todd Walters’ rifle. He can get it for only 
three dollars, and I want him to have it if 
possible. He has cheerfully gone without so 
many things this fall. He followed me around 
the house all morning, begging me to think 
of some way in which he could earn the money, 
until, in desperation, I suggested that he piece 
a quilt for me at a cent a block. To my great 
surprise, he consented eagerly. He usually 
scorns anything that looks like girls’ work.” 

“ And mother will have to do without the 
new bonnet that she had counted on getting 
with the turkey money that always comes in 
just before Christmas, in order to pay for it,” 
said Rhoda to her brother. I think it’s a 
shame. She needs it too badly to. give it up 
for that child’s whim.” 

“ No, daughter,” answered Mrs. Marshall, 
gently. ‘Mn a country neighbourhood like 
this it matters little whether I wear my clothes 
one year or seven ; and it is not a mere whim 
with Johnny. He wants that rifle more than 
he ever wanted anything in his life before. 
I think the quilt money would be a good in- 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 3 

vestment. The work will teach him patience 
and neatness, and above all keep him quiet 
in the evenings. Since your father has been 
so worried over his business, he needs all the 
relaxation possible at home. He enjoys read- 
ing aloud in the evenings, and Johnny’s fidget- 
ing annoys him. A ten-year-old boy is all 
wriggle and racket without something to oc- 
cupy him.” 

She did not say it aloud, but, as she cut out 
the gay patchwork, she thought, with a warm 
glow of heart, of another reason for the invest- 
ment. The quilt would be such a precious 
reminder of Johnny’s boyhood some day, when 
he had put away childish things. Every stitch 
would be dear to her, because of the little 
stubby fingers that worked so patiently to set 
them, despite the needle pricks and knotted 
thread. 

That evening, with every curtain drawn 
tight, so that no prying outsider might see 
and tell, and ready to run at the first sign of 
an approaching visitor, Johnny sat down on 
the hearth-rug, tailor fashion, to begin the 
quilt. A slateful of calculations had shown 
him that, by making five blocks every evening 


4 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


and fifteen every Saturday, he could finish by 
Christmas. Todd would wait until then for 
his money. Three hundred and fifty blocks 
would give him enough for the rifle, and half 
a dollar besides for ammunition. 

Well, Johnny,” said Mr. Marshall, teas- 
ingly, “ I suppose your mother signed a con- 
tract for this. ‘ There’s many a slip,’ you 
know. What would you do if the turkeys died 
before Christmas, and she couldn’t pay you ? ” 

“ Huh! No danger of mother’s not keeping 
her word ! ” answered Johnny, with a confident 
wag of his head. “ She said she’d pay me, 
not only the day, but the very hour they were 
done. Didn’t you, mother?” 

“ Yes, son,” was the smiling answer, as she 
put the first block into his hands, and the quilt 
was begun. Not only the quilt, but a series 
of quiet evenings long to be remembered by 
the Marshall family. The picture of Johnny 
bending over his patchwork, his serious little 
face puckered into an anxious frown, as he 
tugged at the thread with awkward fingers, 
is one of the ways they love best to think of 
him. They still laugh heartily over the time 
when he rolled under the sofa^ work-basket and 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 5 

all, to escape the eyes of a gossipy neighbour, 
who had knocked unexpectedly at the side 
door, and who stayed so long that he fell 
asleep and snored loudly. 

The following Saturday morning, Mrs. 
Marshall, going out to the barn for a hatchet, 
heard voices on the other side of the partition. 
Peeping through a crack, she saw a sight that 
confounded her. 

Every boy in the neighbourhood seemed to 
be there, and every one was making patch- 
work. One boy was dangling his feet over the 
manger, several were perched on a ladder, and 
one was sitting cross-legged on a huge pump- 
kin. Johnny was going around as Grand In- 
quisitor from one to another. If a seam was 
puckered, he gave the unlucky seamstress what 
they called a ‘‘ hickey,'’ — a tremendous thump 
on the head with his thumb and middle finger. 
If the stitches were big and uneven, he gave 
two hickeys and a pinch, and one boy got half 
a dozen, because Johnny said his dirty hands 
made the thread gray. Mrs. Marshall gath- 
ered that it was some sort of secret society, 
and that they had signed an oath in their own 
blood not to tell. 


6 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


“ Johnny is at the bottom of it,” she thought, 
laughing as she went back to the house. “ He 
has set the other boys to sewing in order to 



forestall them. Now they cannot tease him, 
should they hear of his private quilt-piecing.” 

Another week went by of peaceful, unin- 
terrupted evenings, and every night at bedtime 
Johnny counted out his tale of finished blocks 




THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT / 

with a sigh of relief. On the second Saturday 
evening he disappeared immediately after sup- 
per. It was nearly an hour later when he came 
tumbling excitedly into the house. 

‘‘ Look, mother ! Look, everybody ! ” he ex- 
claimed. It’s all done ! Here are the three 
■ hundred and fifty blocks all in one pile. Now, 
I’m ready for my money, mother.” 

“ Why, Johnny! ” gasped Mrs. Marshall, in 
astonishment. “ It isn’t possible you have 
done them all in two short weeks ! ” 

‘‘ Here they are,” answered Johnny, smiling 
broadly. “ Todd got in a hurry for his money, 
and I was so everlasting tired of the old patch- 
work that I had to think of some plan; so I 
farmed out two hundred of the blocks at a 
quarter of a cent apiece. I got up a sort of 
secret society, and we sewed after school and 
on Saturdays in the barn. The boys are wait- 
ing around the corner for their money now. 
There’s ten of ’em, and I owe each one a nickel. 
So give me part of the money in small change, 
please, mother. Todd’s there, too, ’cause I 
told him that you said you’d pay the very hour 
they were done.” 

He dropped the bundle in her lap and hopped 


8 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


up and down, holding one foot in his hand. 
“ Now the rifle’s mine,” he sang. “ I can look 
the whole world in the face, for I owe not any 
man.” He was quoting from the memory 
exercises at school. His eager face clouded a 
little at his mother’s ominous silence. He 
shifted uneasily from one foot to another, won- 
dering why she did not speak. At last she 
said, slowly: 

“ But I had expected to pay you out of the 
turkey money, and I can’t get that before 
Christmas. I hadn’t an idea you could finish 
before then. And, oh, Johnny ! ” she added, 
sadly, I thought it would be all your own 
work. What do I care for a quilt made by 
Tom, Dick, and Harry? I consented to spend 
so much money on it, because I thought it 
would give you employment for six or seven 
weeks at least, and that we would all set such 
store by a quilt that you had made with your 
own little fingers, — every stitch of it ! ” 

Johnny wriggled uncomfortably. It had 
been purely a business arrangement with him. 
He could not understand his mother’s senti- 
ment. There was another disagreeable pause. 
Mrs. Marshall gazed into the fire with such 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


9 


a disappointed look in her eyes that Johnny 
felt the tears coming into his own. Then his 
father and Rob and Rhoda, seeing the humour 
of the situation, began to laugh. 

‘‘Oh, what a joke!’' gasped Rhoda finally, 
holding her sides. 

“Who on? I’d like to know,” demanded 
Johnny, savagely, and threw himself full 
length on the rug. 

“ I don’t know what to do ! ” he sobbed, his 
face buried in his arms, and his feet waving 
wildly back and forth above his prostrate body. 
“ I don’t know what to do-oo I The boys are 
out there waiting for me around the corner, 
expecting me to bring the money right away. 
I told them sure I’d bring it — that you prom- 
ised — the very hour ! I didn’t know it made 
any difference to you who finished ’em, just 
so they was done.” 

“ It was a misunderstanding, Johnny,” said 
his mother, rising slowly, “ but I’ll keep my 
promise, of course.” She went up-stairs, and 
in a few minutes came back with a five-dollar 
gold piece that she had taken out of a little 
box of keepsakes. They all knew its history. 

“ Oh, mother, not that ! ” cried Rhoda. 


lO 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


Not the gold piece that grandfather gave 
you because he was so proud of your leading 
the school a whole year both in scholarship 
and deportment ! ” 

“ Yes, he gave it to me on my tenth birth- 
day, just a little while before he died. It was 
the last thing he ever gave me, and I have kept 
it for thirty years as one of my most precious 
possessions.” She was rubbing the little coin 
until it shone like new, with the bit of chamois 
skin in which it had been folded. “ But dear 
as it is to me, it is not so dear as the keeping 
of my word. Here, Johnny, take it down to 
the corner, and ask Mr. Dolkins to change it 
for you.” 

Mr. Marshall listened with a pained con- 
traction of the brows. “ Couldn’t you wait 
until the latter part of next week, Abby? ” he 
asked. “ I think I could get the money for 
you by that time, and I hate to have you part 
with the little keepsake you have treasured so 
long.” 

Mrs. Marshall shook her head. “ No, Rob- 
ert,” she answered, “ for that would make 
Johnny break his word, too. You know he 
promised the boys, — and we couldn’t afford 


(( 



DEAR AS IT IS TO ME, IT IS NOT SO DEAR AS THE 

5 >» 


KEEPING OF MY WORD. 







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THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 1 3 

that, could we, son? We must keep our word 
at any cost.” She slipped the money into his 
hand, kissed him, and bade him hurry home 
again; and Johnny, rushing back to his impa- 
tient creditors, felt that it was something very 
solemn indeed which had just taken place. 

Johnny’s little room at the head of the stairs 
was heated by the hall stove, so that the door 
stood open all day long. When the new quilt 
was folded across the foot of his bed, it was 
the first thing that caught the eye of every one 
passing up the stairs. 

Rob made up a verse about it, which he sang 
so often to tease Johnny that the first note 
was enough to make the child bristle up for 
a fight: 

“ This is the patchwork all forlorn, 

Made by the boys in Marshall’s barn. 

The dog and the cat and even the rat 
Had a hand in that — 

A hand in the Quilt that Jack built ! ” 

You needn’t make fun of it,” said Rhoda 
one day. It has held me to my word more 
than once. Yesterday, for instance, I would 
have broken my promise to poor little Miss 


14 THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 

Sara Grimes, to help her entertain her old 
ladies, and would have accepted Harry Bill- 
ing’s invitation, which came later, to go sleigh- 
ing. But that quilt would not let me. It 
showed me mother as she stood there with her 
precious little gold piece, saying, We must 
keep our word at any cost! ’ After that I 
couldn’t disappoint poor old Miss Sara.” 

“ I know,” answered Rob, softly, looking up 
from his algebra. “ It’s served me the same 
way. It lies there like the exponent of a higher 
power, — the exponent of mother’s standards 
and ideals that she expects us to raise our- 
selves up to.” 

Mr. Marshall made a similar confession one 
day, and it seemed that Johnny alone was the 
only member of the family who had no senti- 
ment in regard to the quilt, except, perhaps, 
a feeling of gratitude. It had brought him 
the rifle. He snuggled down under it on cold 
winter nights, tumbled out from under it on 
cold winter mornings, and went his happy-go- 
lucky way, regardless of what it might have 
said to him if he had had ears to hear. Then, 
when, worn and faded by many washings, it 
outgrew its usefulness as he outgrew his boy- 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT I 5 

hood, one spring morning his mother packed it 
carefully away in folds of old linen and lav- 
ender. 

It was toward the middle of John Marshall’s 
freshman year at college. The boy “ all wrig- 
gle and racket ” was a strong, athletic young 
fellow now, still with the same propensities of 
his restless boyhood. His overflowing animal 
spirits made him a jolly companion, and he 
found himself popular from the start. There 
was no need naw for petty economies in the 
Marshall homestead. Business had been pros- 
perous since that one hard winter when Johnny 
made patchwork to pay for his gun, and he 
found himself now with as liberal an allowance 
as any one in his class. 

“ I’m in for having a royal good time,” he 
wrote to Rhoda, who was home-keeper now, 
for it had been two years since her mother’s 
death, and Rhoda had done her best to fill the 
vacant place to them all. “ And you needn’t 
preach to me. Sis,” he wrote. “ I’m all right, 
and I’m not going to get into the trouble, which 
you cheerfully predict. I shall not get into 
any scrapes that I can’t skin out of; but a 


1 6 THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 

fellow would be a fool who didn’t squeeze as 
much fun as possible out of his college life.” 

As he was finishing this letter, three stu- 
dents, who were foremost in all the fun going, 
came tumbling unceremoniously into his room. 
“ Say, you there, Marshall,” cried the first 
one, “ hustle up and get ready for a lark to- 
night. You know that Sophomore Wilson, 
the long-faced fellow the boys call Squills? 
He’s rooming in the old Baptist parsonage 
away out on the edge of town. It’s vacant 
now, and they’re glad to let him have a room 
free for the sake of somebody to guard the 
premises. We’ve found that he will be out 
to-night, sitting up with a sick frat., so we’ve 
planned to borrow the parsonage in his ab- 
sence to give a swell dinner. Tingley and 
Jones will visit several hen-roosts in our behalf, 
and we’ll roast the fowls in the parsonage 
stove. If you’ll just set up the champagne, 
Jacky, my boy, we’ll be ‘ Yours for ever, little 
darling,’ and we’ll gamble on the green of the 
defunct parson’s study table ‘ till morning doth 
appear.’ ” 

He took out a new deck of cards as he spoke. 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 1 7 

and slapped significantly on his overcoat pocket, 
bulging with packages of cigarettes. 

“ What if Squills should come back unex- 
pectedly?” asked Johnny. 

“ Oh, that’s all arranged. We’ll toss him up 
in a blanket until he hasn’t breath enough left 
to squeal on us. Suppose you bring along a 
blanket, if you have one to spare,” suggested 
the wild senior, whose notice always flattered 
the susceptible freshman. “ In case Squills 
does turn up before schedule time, it would 
be a good thing to have one handy.” 

“ All right. I’ll be ready. When do you 
start? ” 

At ten o’clock,” was the answer. “ We’ll 
come by for you,” and the three conspirators 
tramped down the long corridor, shoulder to 
shoulder, to the whistled tune of “ John 
Brown’s Body.” 

John sat down at his table, frowning over 
his lessons for the next day. For nearly an 
hour he tried to work, first at his Latin and 
then on the theme that he was expected to 
hand in directly after chapel. But his thoughts 
were on the coming lark. 

“ Oh, bother ! ” he exclaimed at last, toss- 


1 8 THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 

ing the books into a disorderly heap and tear- 
ing his theme in two. “ What difference will 
it make fifty years from now, if Fm not pre- 
pared to-morrow ? I guess Fll get that blanket 
while I think about it.” 

At the beginning of the cold weather, he 
had written home for some extra blankets, and 
Rhoda had sent a box immediately. It had 
been standing in the closet several days, wait- 
ing for him to find time to unpack it. A sofa 
pillow made of his class colours came tumbling 
out as he removed the lid, -and, wondering 
what other extras his sister might have put 
in the box, he turned it upside down on the 
bed to investigate. Two fine soft blankets 
came first, then an eiderdown comfort, and 
then — something wrapped in a square of 
time-yellowed linen, and smelling faintly of 
lavender. 

“ What under the canopy ! ” he muttered, 
beginning to unfold it. “Well, Fll be — jig- 
gered ! ” he exclaimed, as the familiar squares 
of faded patchwork met his eye. “ It’s that 
old quilt I made for mother ! ” He had for- 
gotten its existence, but now, as he spread 
it out full length, smiling at the well-known 









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THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


21 


object, it seemed only yesterday that he had 
been at work upon it. Rob’s old teasing rhyme 
came back to him : 

“ This is the patchwork all forlorn, 

Made by the boys in Marshall’s barn.” 

‘‘ It was funny,” he thought, “ the way I 
farmed out those two hundred blocks to the 
other boys. Why, here’s a piece of one of 
those little striped waists I used to wear, and 
there’s a piece of Rob’s checked shirt and 
Rhoda’s apron. I wouldn’t have imagined 
that I could have recognized them after all 
these years, but they look as natural as life. 
And this,” — his finger was resting on a square 
of dotted blue calico, — “ mother wore this. 
My! the times I’ve hung on to that dress, 
following her around the house, bothering her 
to stop and cover a ball, or make me a marble 
bag, or untangle my fishing-lines. And she 
always stopped so patiently.” 

He was back in the sunny old kitchen, with 
its spicy smell of gingerbread and pies, hot 
from the Saturday baking. Outside, the snow 
clung to the trees, but the wintry sun shining 
through the shelf of yellow chrysanthemums 


22 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


by the window, made dancing summer shad- 
ows on the clean white floor. He was looking 
at the quilt through blurred eyes now. How 
many, many nights she had spread it over him 
and tucked him snugly in, and softly kissed 
his eyelids down, before she carried away the 
lamp. It came over him all in a swift rush, 
with a sudden cold sense of desolation, that 
she could never do that again ! never any 
more! The light had been taken away, never 
to be brought back. 

Big fellow as he was, he dropped on his 
knees by the bed, and buried his face in the 
old quilt, with a long, quivering sob. He had 
been occupied with so many things in the new 
experiences of his college life that he had not 
missed her for the last few months; but the 
sight of the old quilt brought her so plainly 
before him that the longing to have her back 
was almost intolerable. 

Several blocks away, a crowd of students 
crossing the campus in the moonlight started 
a .rollicking chorus. It floated blithely up to 
him on the wintry night air. 

‘‘ The fellows will be here in a minute,’^ he 
thought. ‘‘ What would she say if she knew ? 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 


23 


I promised her that I would never, never touch 
a drop of liquor or a deck of cards, and here 
I am, getting ready for a night of drinking 
and gambling and carousing. But I’ve gone 
too far to back out now. How they’d hoot 
and laugh if they knew ! ” 

He got up, and began to fold the quilt, pre- 
paratory to putting it back in the box. The 
old scenes still kept crowding upon him. He 
saw himself lying on the hearth-rug, the night 
the boys were waiting for him around the cor- 
ner, and he was crying out, ‘‘ But you promised 
me! You promised me!'^ and there was his 
mother with the bit of a gold piece in her hand, 
— the precious little keepsake that she had 
treasured for thirty years, saying, in answer 
to her husband’s remonstrance : “No, Robert, 
that would make Johnny break his promise, 
too, and we couldn’t afford that, could we, 
son? We must keep our word at any cost! ” 
It stood out fair and fine now, the memory 
of her unswerving truthfulness, her fidelity to 
duty. If the commonplace deeds of those early 
days had seemed of little moment to his child- 
ish eyes in passing, he saw them at their full 
value now. He recognized the high purpose 


24 the quilt that jack built 

with which she had pieced her little days to- 
gether, now that he could look at the whole 
beautiful pattern of her finished life. How 
sacredly she had always kept her word to him, 
the slightest promise always inviolate! Ah, 
the little gold coin was the very least of all 
her sacrifices. 

He was about to say, “ No, they shall not 
all be in vain,” when he heard the fellows on 
the walk outside. A cold perspiration broke 
out on his forehead, as he considered the con- 
sequences should he refuse to go with them. 
Strong as he was, he had a fear of ridicule. 
To be laughed at, to be ostracized by the set 
he admired, was more than he could endure. 
Like many another brave fellow, fearless in 
every respect but one, he was an arrant coward 
before that one overpowering fear of being 
laughed at. 

He gathered the quilt in his arms, debating 
whether he should hide it hastily in the closet, 
or come out boldly before them all with its 
whole homely little story. The fellows were 
tramping down the hall now. Oh, what should 
he do? Go or not? It meant to break with 
them for all time if he refused now. 


THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 25 

There was an instant more of indecision, as 
the footsteps halted at the threshold, but, 
when the door burst open, he had squared his 
shoulders to meet whatever might come, and 
was whispering between his set teeth: At 
any cost, mother! I’ll keep my promise at 
any cost! ” 




HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


This story first appeared in the Central 
Christian Advocate. The author wishes to ac- 
knowledge the courtesy of the editor in per- 
mitting her to republish it in the present 
volume. 


HOW 

HE WON THE BICYCLE 


“ Looks like everybody in Bardstown has 
a wheel but us/’ said Todd Walters, wistfully 
pressing his little freckled nose against the 
show-window of the bicycle shop, where a fine 
wheel was on exhibition. 

It was the third time that day that Todd 
had walked five blocks out of his way to look 
in at that window, and each time Abbot Mor- 
gan and Chicky Wiggins were with him. In 
the two weeks that the new store had been 
open, the boys never failed to stop by on their 
way from school, and the more they looked at 
the wheel displayed so temptingly in the win- 
dow, the more each boy longed to own it. 

None of them had any spending money. 


30 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


Todd might have by and by when school was 
out, and he began selling fly-paper again, as 
he had done the summer before; but it was 



understood in the tumble-down little cottage 
that Todd called home that every penny thus 
earned was to be saved toward the purchase 
of a much needed new suit. 

Chicky Wiggins never could hope to buy 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


31 


the wheel, for he was a district messenger boy, 
and it took all his weekly earnings to pay for 
his board and lodging and washing and shoe- 
leather. Chicky had no family to look after 
him, or help him make one nickel do the work 
of three. 

Abbot Morgan was such a well-dressed boy 
that one might have supposed that his pockets 
were always supplied with spending money, 
but those who knew Abbot’s uncle, the hard, 
grasping man with whom he lived, knew better. 
Peter had worked hard for his little fortune, 
and, while he was willing to provide a com- 
fortable home for his sister’s orphan son, he 
did not propose that one penny should be spent 
in foolishness, as he called it. So there was 
little hope of Abbot ever owning the wheel. 

But I’ll have something to spend as I please 
this summer,” he said, as they stood looking 
in through the window. “ Uncle said that 
after I have done Aunt Jane’s chores every 
morning, I shall have my time to myself this 
summer. He let me have the two acres back 
of the house for a garden; and I’ve got it 
planted with all sorts of vegetables. They are 
coming on fine, and I’m going to sell them and 


32 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


have all the money myself, after uncle has 
paid for the seed.” 

Many a conversation about the wheel took 
place in front of that window, and old Judge 
Parker, who had his law-office next door, soon 
began to look for the boys’ visit as one of the 
most interesting happenings of the day. Every- 
body in Bardstown knew old Judge Parker. 
He was as queer as he was kind-hearted, which 
was saying a great deal, as he was the most 
benevolent old soul that had ever lived in the 
little town. There was a kindly twinkle in his 
blue eyes as he laid down his paper and beck- 
oned the boys to come into his office. He had 
been making inquiries about them for several 
days, and one of the queerest of his many queer 
plans was soon unfolded to the wondering 
boys. 

“ I’ve noticed that you seem to admire that 
wheel in the window of Stark Brothers a good 
deal,” he said, ‘‘ and I’m going to give you 
each a chance to win it. I’ll offer it as a prize 
if you are willing to work for it on my condi- 
tions. I’ve heard that you will each be in 
business for yourselves in a small way this 
summer, and I’ll make this offer. If each of 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


33 


you boys without any help from any one, will 
choose a good proverb or text out of the Bible 
for a business motto, I’ll give the wheel to the 
boy who makes the best choice. You can 
select any three business men in Bardstown to 
be the judges; but the proof of a pudding is 
in the eating, you know, so you must apply 
that motto to your own business faithfully 
for two months, and the excellence of the 
motto will be judged by the results.” 

The boys looked at the judge in open- 
mouthed surprise. They thought he surely 
must be joking, but nothing could be more 
serious or dignified than the way in which the 
white-haired old gentleman repeated his offer. 
So, after awhile, the boys succeeded in naming 
three business men to be the judges, who were 
satisfactory to all of them. They chose a 
grocer, a druggist, and a livery-stable proprie- 
tor, who were located on the same street with 
Stark Brothers. 

‘‘ Ain’t it the funniest thing you ever heard 
of?” said Chicky Wiggins, when they were 
once more on the street. “ It’ll be a long time 
to keep a secret, and I’ll be aching to know 
what mottoes you kids have picked out. I’ll 


34 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


bet it’s just a trap to get us to read the Bible. 
He’s one of your pious kind.” 

“ Well, it’s a trap worth walking into,” an- 
swered Abbot, “ if it’s baited with something 
as tempting as a bicycle. The only trouble is 
that it will take so long to find a motto. The 
Bible is so full of them that a fellow’d feel 
like he ought to read it clear through, for fear 
of skipping the very one that might take the 
prize, and we have only a week to make a 
choice.” 

Abbot did not have to search long for his 
verse. He found it the second day, and chose 
it the instant his eye caught the sentence on 
the page. “ Why, I’ve heard uncle say that 
a dozen times ! ” he exclaimed, as he read the 
familiar line, ‘ The hand of the diligent mak- 
eth rich.' That worked all right in uncle’s 
case, and it will be an easy one to live up to, 
for, if I buckle down to it, and sell a whole 
lot of vegetables, I can prove my motto is the 
best.” From that day Abbot began to feel 
a sense of ownership in the wheel in Stark 
Brothers’ show-window. 

Todd Walters worried nearly a week over 
his choice. It was the last week of school. 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


35 


and he sat with a little pocket Bible hidden 
between the covers of his geography many an 
hour when he should have been learning the 
rivers of Asia, or doing long sums in the divi- 
sion of fractions. Six days of the seven went 
by before he found a motto to his liking. He 
was lying stretched out on the old lounge in 
the tiny sitting-room that noon, waiting for 
dinner. Todd and his mother lived alone in 
this little cottage, and she was busy all sum- 
mer making preserves and pickles and jellies 
to sell. It was their only means of support. 

As the delicious odour of strawberry pre- 
serves floated in from the kitchen, Todd 
thought of his sweet-faced little mother bend- 
ing over the steaming kettle, and wished he 
could tell her the secret of the prize wheel. 
‘‘ I wisht I could ask her for a verse,” he said. 
‘‘ She must know pretty near the whole Bible 
off by heart. I never knew anybody that could 
say so many verses in a string without stop- 
ping.” 

Just then his eye fell on the old family Bible, 
lying in state on the marble-topped centre 
table, and remembering how boldly the big 
type always seemed to stare out at him when 


36 HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 

he used to look at the pictures in it, he got 
up from the lounge to walk across the room 
and open it. The leaves opened as of their 
own accord at a chapter in Proverbs, where 
an old-fashioned cardboard book-mark kept 
the place. It had been years since his grand- 
father’s trembling hand had placed that book- 
mark there, the last time he led in family pray- 
ers, and his mother had never allowed it to 
be moved. So the book opened now at the 
chapter that had been read on that memorable 
morning, and Todd’s eye caught the text at 
the top of the page : A good name is rather 
to he chosen than great riches, and loving 
favour than silver and gold.” 

I’ll take that,” said Todd, softly, to him- 
self, as he closed the great volume, for I 
remember just what mother said about it when 
she explained it to me.” 

So that was the motto which found its way 
to Judge Parker’s office, in a sealed envelope, 
as he had directed they should be sent, with 
each boy’s name signed to the verse of his 
choice. 

It was not so easy for Chicky Wiggins to 
make a decision. To begin with, nobody -in 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


37 


the cheap lodging-house that was his only 
home had a Bible, and he was ashamed to 
ask for one from the other boys. Still the daily 
sight of that wheel in Stark Brothers window 
finally nerved him to borrow a little old dog- 
eared Testament from the Swede who swept 
out the office. The young Swede had gotten 
it at a mission school he faithfully attended. 
There was no back on it, and several of the 
leaves were missing, but some reverent hand 
had heavily underscored some of the verses, 
and these were the ones that Chicky spelled 
out when no one was looking. 

“ Here’s one in Luke that somebody has 
marked,” he said to himself. “ That ought to 
bring good luck, ’cause Luke is my real name, 
and it was daddy’s, too. Everybody that knew 
daddy says that he was a good man. I believe 
I’ll take this just because it is in Luke, and 
somebody seemed to think it was an extra 
good one, or he wouldn’t have put three lines 
under it. The other verses that are marked 
have only one. ^ He that is faithful in that 
which is least is faithful also in much/ T 
reckon that that’s about as good a motto for 
the district messenger business as any. I’ll 


38 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


take this and sign myself Luke. Folks have 
called me Chicky so long they must have for- 
gotten I have any other name.” 



The Monday after school was out found 
Abbot in a pair of old overalls, hoeing away 
in his garden as if his life depended on getting 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


39 


rid of the last weed. Several of the boys 
stopped at the back fence to beg him to go 
fishing with them, but he gave them a laugh- 
ing refusal. 

‘‘ Fm after bigger fish than your little brook 
trout,’' he said, in a mysterious way. “ Fve 
got my line set for a whaling big fish that will 
make you all green with envy. You just wait 
and see what I get on the end of my line.” 

He chuckled as he spoke. The line he meant 
was in a sealed envelope on Judge Parker’s 
desk, and he was sure that it would draw the 
prize which would be envied by every boy in 
the neighbourhood. 

“ ril bet it’s tied to a bean-pole,” was the 
mocking answer. ‘‘ Come along, boys, no use 
wasting time on an old dig like Ab.” 

He stood leaning on his hoe-handle a mo- 
ment, watching the boys file down the alley 
with their fishing-poles over their shoulders, 
and thought of the shady creek bank where 
they would soon be sitting. How much pleas- 
anter to be where the willows dipped down 
into the clear, still pools than here in the rough 
furrows of the garden, with the hot sun beat- 
ing down on him. It was only for a moment 


40 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


he stood there, longing to follow, then he fell 
to work again. 

Every thud of the hoe, as it struck into the 
rich earth, kept time to the refrain which re- 
peated itself over and over in his mind : “ The 
hand of the Jz7-i-gent ma-keth rich!” That 
was the tune to which he set everything dur- 
ing the two months that followed. He hur- 
ried through his Aunt Jane’s chores in an 
impatient way, doing as little as possible in 
order to get back to his own work. She won- 
dered why he was so absorbed in his garden. 
When he was not weeding or watering or 
planting, he was counting the number of pea- 
pods on every vine, or the ears of corn as they 
tasselled out on each stalk. He had put brains 
as well as muscle into his summer’s work, 
asking questions and advice of every gardener 
in Bardstown, and carefully reading the agri- 
cultural papers one of them loaned him. Every 
vegetable he attempted to raise was a success, 
and he carried them all three miles down the 
road toward the city, to some rich customers 
that he found in the elegant suburban homes 
there. They were willing to pay nearly double 
the price that the Bardstown people offered 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


41 


him, everything he had was so fresh and 
good. 

It was a long way to trudge with his heavy 
baskets, and he longed every day for the wheel 
he was trying so hard to win. “ Won’t I spin 
along then ! ” he said to himself on more than 
one occasion, as he dragged his tired feet home- 
ward. 

His Aunt Jane wanted to buy some of his 
vegetables, and hinted several times that he 
might supply the table once in awhile for noth- 
ing; but beyond an occasional contribution in 
the way of a few inferior vegetables that he 
could not sell, he would not part with any at 
the price she offered. 

“ He’s a boy after your own heart, Peter 
Morgan,” she complained to her husband. 
“ He’s closer than the bark on a tree.” 

“ Well, that’s nothing against him,” was the 
answer. ‘‘ That’s business. He’ll be rich some 
day. Keep all you get and get all you can 
is the only way to get along in the world, ac- 
cording to my notion.” 

It was the Monday after school was out that 
Todd Walters also started to work. He was 
selling fly-paper on commission for his friend, 


42 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


the druggist. It was that sticky kind, called 
“ Tanglefoot,” that promises such a pleasant 
path to the unwary insect, but proves such a 
snare and a delusion at the last. 

Mrs. Walters waved him good-bye from the 
kitchen door as he started hopefully off, bare- 
footed and happy, with a smile all over his 
little, round, honest face. He came back at 
noon with forty cents and a glowing account 
of his morning’s work. 

“ I might have made more,” he said, “ but 
Mrs. Carr asked me to play with the baby 
while she ran across the street to ask about 
another cook. Hers is gone, and she was 
afraid to leave the baby by itself while she 
hunted another. Then when I stopped at Mrs. 
Foster’s, the professor’s wife, you know, she 
was nearly crying. She had lost a ring in the 
grass that she thought everything of. It had 
belonged to the professor’s grandmother. I 
helped her look for it for nearly an hour, and 
at last I found it on the tennis-court. It was 
a beauty, and she was so glad she fairly hugged 
me, and wanted to pay me for finding it, but 
of course I wouldn’t take anything for a little 
work like that.” 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


43 


'' Of course not,” echoed his mother. 
“ W ell, what else hindered you ? ” 

“ Old Mr. Beemer for one thing. He is too 
blind to read, you know, and he was sitting 
out under a tree, with a letter in his hand. 
His daughter told me she had read it to him 
five times this morning, but he wants to hear 
it every half-hour. He is so old and childish. 
She had bought several sheets of fly-paper, so 
I stopped and read it through twice, and he 
seemed so pleased, and called me the light of 
his eyes. I hope I can do better than this 
this afternoon.” 

Mrs. Walters took the four dimes he handed 
her to put away, and, as they jingled down 
into the old cracked ginger jar that served 
for Todd’s bank, she said: “Well, under the 
circumstances. I’m glad you didn’t earn any 
rhore this morning, if it would have kept you 
from doing those little kindnesses. You need 
your clothes bad enough, in all conscience, but 
it is better to smooth out the way for people 
as you go along. Old Solomon was right, 
loving favour is better than silver and gold.” 

Todd’s sunburned face grew so red, as his 
mother unconsciously stumbled upon the motto 


44 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


that he had chosen, that he turned a somer- 
sault on the kitchen floor to hide his embar- 



rassment. He need not have been so confused, 
for she was always saying such things. 

Sales were not always so good as they were 
the first hot morning. Many a day Todd wan- 
dered all over the little town, stopping at every 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


45 


door, only to be met by a disappointing “ no.” 
Many a time, when the hot pavements burned 
his bare feet and he was tired and discouraged, 
he longed for the wheel which he hoped would 
some day be his; and every evening, on his 
way home, he stopped to look in at Stark 
Brothers’ window, to feast his eyes on that 
bicycle inside. 

One evening, as he stood looking in, Chicky 
Wiggins slipped up and slapped him on the 
back in his friendly way. “ Hullo, Todd,” 
he called, “ admiring my wheel, are you ? I’m 
letting it stay in there awhile to accommodate 
Stark Brothers, but the truth is I’ve been think- 
ing seriously of having to take it out. The 
company sends me on such long errands that 
I seem to be getting more walking than the 
doctor prescribed. It doesn’t agree with me.” 

“ You mean my wheel,” laughed Todd. 
‘‘ I’ll lend it to you sometimes, Chicky, my 
son, if you’ll promise to be good.” 

“ I say, Todd,” said Chicky, giving him a 
quizzical glance, “ I’d give a doughnut to know 
what motto you and Ab chose.” 

Todd grinned. “You won’t have much 
longer to wait,” he said. “ Time is nearly up. 


46 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


and we’ll know our fate in another ten 
days.” 

The last week in August, the three men 
whom the boys had selected to decide their 
case met in Judge Parker’s office. 

“ If you want my opinion,” said the grocer, 
when he was called upon, “ I think Ab Mor- 
gan has worked the hardest for this prize. 
He has proved the truth of his motto beyond 
a doubt, for he has made a success of his gar- 
den, and has never slacked up a day. He has 
made a nice little pile of money, too, and I 
would recommend him to any business man 
in this town as an example of diligence. I’ll 
be glad to have him clerk for me any time 
he gets ready to come.” 

“ I think that little Todd Walters has made 
the best choice,” said the druggist. “ You 
see, he has been selling fly-paper for me all 
summer on commission, and I’ve had a chance 
to see the inner workings. People are always 
coming to me with some pleasant thing to say 
about him. He’s certainly won the ‘ loving 
favour ’ of all he’s had anything to do with, 
whether they were his customers or not, and 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 47 

the good name he has made for himself will 
stick to him all his life. 

“ He had a lemonade stand at the baseball 
game last week, and I heard Doctor Streeter 
say to a friend : ‘ Come on, Bill, let’s go over 
and get a glass, — patronize the little fellow.’ 
The man said, ‘ No, thank you, doc, none of 
that weak circus stuff for me, — acid and col- 
ouring matter and sweetened water. I’ve been 
an enterprising boy myself, and know how it’s 
done.’ 

‘‘ ‘ I assure you it’s all right if Todd Walters 
made it,’ answered the doctor. ‘ I’m willing 
to guarantee him to any extent. He’s all 
wool and a yard wide ” in everything he does, 
and, if you don’t find his lemonade is pure 
stuff, made of real lemons, my name is not 
James Streeter. That little fellow has the 
respect and confidence of everybody who 
knows him, and I’d trust him with anything 
I’ve got.’ ” 

That’s all right as far as it goes,” inter- 
rupted the grocer, “ but he hasn’t made as 
much money as Ab. Ab has furnished straight 
goods, too, and has never misrepresented 
things.” 


48 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


“ Yes,” answered the druggist, “ but the 
almighty dollar has been his sole aim and am- 
bition. He has been selfish and miserly in the 
pursuit of it, and money is all he has gained. 
Now Todd has been industrious enough, and 
gone about his business quite as faithfully as 
Ab, but instead of putting his head down like a 
dog on the scent of a rabbit, he has had some 
thought of the people he passed. I like that 
in a business man. Aside from any ethical 
consideration, a man makes more in the long 
run if he cares for the good-will of his cus- 
tomers as well as their cash.” 

“ What have you to say on the subject, Mr. 
Brown? ” asked the judge, turning to the pro- 
prietor of the livery-stable. 

‘‘ Well, my choice is for Chicky Wiggins,” 
answered the man, tipping back his chair and 
thrusting his hands in his pockets. “ I may 
not have as much book-learning as these other 
gentlemen, but there’s one thing that I do 
know when I see it, and that’s a good steady 
gait either of a horse or a man. Now Chicky 
is no thoroughbred, and he’ll probably never 
beat the record of them that is, but I’ve kept 
an eye on him this summer, and I tell you 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


49 


he’s developing the traits that win every time. 
Last spring, when the judge made this offer, 
he was as skittish and unreliable as a young 
colt. I wouldn’t have trusted him around the 
corner to do an errand for me. I’ve known 
him ever since he put on the district messenger 
uniform, and I wouldn’t have given one of his 
own brass buttons for him. I’ve come across 
him too many times, when he’d been sent on 
an errand, stopping to play marbles and fly 
kites with the other boys. 

“ But since he’s took up with that motto of 
his, he’s settled down in the harness as steady 
as a ten-year-old horse. Now I notice if 
there’s anything specially important to be done, 
Chicky’s the one they pick out. There’s some- 
thing almost pitiful in the way he’s been try- 
ing, when you recollect he has never had any 
raising, and has shifted for himself all his 
life. I don’t really believe that it’s to get the 
wheel that has made such a change in him 
as the idea of being faithful in every little 
thing has taken such a holt on him. I’ve 
known him to walk two miles to straighten out 
the matter of a penny or a postage-stamp. 

“ I’m not saying but that the other fellows’ 


50 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


mottoes are best for them that likes them, but, 
if I was a-hunting somebody that I could tie 
to through thick and thin, in any kind of busi- 
ness, and under every kind of circumstance, 
ril be blamed if I wouldn’t rather choose some- 
body that was a-living up to Chicky’s text in 
dead earnest.” 

“ He certainly does seem to have made more 
improvement than the others personally,” ad- 
mitted the grocer, “ but in a business way the 
results do not show so plainly.” 

“ Well, there’s still a week,” said Judge 
Parker, finally. “We’ll wait a little longer 
before we decide.” 

Several days later, Todd Walters ran breath- 
lessly up the alley that led to the back of the 
Morgan place, and scrambled over the high 
board fence. “Hi, Ab!” he called, as he 
dropped lightly to the ground. “ Have you 
heard the news ? ” 

“No,” answer Ab, dropping the basket he 
was carrying, and straightening up to listen. 

“ Chicky is in luck. He’s had a perfectly 
splendid position offered him in an express- 
office in another town. He’ll make as much 
in one month there as he did here in a whole 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


51 


year. Fm going down after dinner to ask 
all the particulars. All I know now is that 
some strange gentleman telephoned down to 
the District Messenger Office a few days ago 
for them to send the trustiest employee that 
they had up to the hotel as quick as possible. 
Something important had to be attended to, 
and he didn’t want anybody that couldn’t be 
trusted in every way. And out of the whole 
L'unch Chicky was the one they picked, as the 
most reliable one in the office. 

The gentleman was sick and couldn’t go to 
take some important papers somewhere that 
they had to go, and he was a stranger, and 
didn’t know anybody in town. But he told 
Chicky it was very particular that they should 
get there on time, and he would make it all 
right with the company for sending him out 
of town. Then he gave him some money to 
buy a railroad ticket, and told him just where 
to go, and what to do and everything. 

‘‘ Well, there was a wreck on the road, some- 
where along in the night, and lots of people 
were hurt. Chicky got a bad cut on his head 
that bled awfully, and sprained his shoulder 
besides. But when he shook himself together. 


52 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


and got somebody to tie up his head, he found 
that the train would be seven hours behind 
time on account of that smash-up. And that 
kid just started off on foot. He walked all 



the rest of the night, and, when he got to the 
town where he was to leave the papers, he was 
so near done for that he had to hire a hack 
to haul him up to the man’s house. It turned 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


53 


out that he got there just in time to save the 
stranger a big lot of property in some way or 
another, and the man said he’d been looking 
for years for a boy like that, who could be 
faithful to a trust, and now that he’d found 
him he intended to stand by him. I think it 
was real brave of Chicky to go all that way 
in the dark, all alone on a strange road. I’ll 
bet it will be in all the papers.” 

And I’ll bet he’ll get the bicycle now,” 
said Ab, gloomily, as he sat down on the wheel- 
barrow and kicked his heels against it. “I 
feel it in my bones. All my summer’s work’s 
gone for nothing.” 

“ I wanted it awfully bad, too,” said Todd, 
with a sigh and a sudden clouding of his bright 
little face. “ Of course, I’d be glad for Chicky 
to have it, when he hasn’t any home or noth- 
ing, but I’ve worked so hard for it, and I can’t 
help feeling disappointed.” 

All the way home his heart felt as heavy 
as lead, and, when he came in sight of the 
little tumble-down cottage, his eyes were 
blurred with tears for a moment. 

“ Todd, dear,” called his mother, running 
out to meet him, ‘‘ guess who' has been here. 


54 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


It was Judge Parker’s wife. Yes, I know all 
about your secret now. She told me the men 
have finally decided that Luke Wiggins has 
won the wheel. But she is so disappointed 
on your account, and told me so many nice 
things that people have said about you that I 
just sat down and cried. I was so proud and 
happy. And, Todd, what do you think she 
left here for you to take care of? She’ll pay 
you well for doing it, and it will be yours to 
use just as if it were your own, — a pony! 
A beautiful little Shetland pony. It was her 
little grandson’s, and they have kept it since 
he died, because they could not bear to part 
with anything he had been so fond of. Now 
they are going away from Bardstown for a 
long, long time. They have been looking 
around for somebody to take care of it, and 
they say they would rather trust it to you than 
any one they know. You can have it to pet 
and love and use just as long as you want it.” 

“ Oh, it’s too good to be true! ” cried Todd, 
giving his mother a hug of frantic joy before 
he rushed off to the stable. There she found 
him a little later with his arms around the 
pony’s neck, saying over and over : ‘‘ Oh, you 


HOW HE WON THE BICYCLE 


55 


dear, beautiful old thing! You’re better than 
a thousand wheels ! ” 

“ It’s all because of your living up to your 
motto, sonny boy,” she said, as she held out a 
lump of sugar for the pretty creature to nibble. 
“ It was your ‘ good name ’ that brought you 
into Mrs. Parker’s ‘ loving favour.’ ” 

Abbot Morgan’s disappointment was not 
tempered by any such great happiness as came 
to little Todd, but it was a proud moment when 
he showed his uncle his bank-book, and heard 
his hearty praise. Judge Parker and the 
grocer were there also at the time. 

“ I came to tell you,” said the grocer, “ that 
there is a man in my store who has a first-class 
wheel that he wants to sell cheap. You have 
earned more than enough to pay the price he 
asks for it, so you see your summer’s work has 
not been in vain. And I want to say that any 
time you want to put that ' hand of the dili- 
gent ’ into my business. I’ll make a place for 
you*.” 

There was a gratified smile on Ab’s face as 
he thanked him. “ I’ll go right down now 
and buy that wheel,” he exclaimed. 

“ Well,” said the judge, as he took his de- 


LofC. 


56 now HE WON THE BICYCLE 

parture, “ every one of those texts worked 
out just as true as preaching, and brought its 
own reward, but I rather think Luke’s is the 
best one to tie to.” 

As he turned the corner, he met Chicky 
himself, who was coming to find him on the 
new bicycle that had just been sent to him. 

“Oh, Judge Parker!” he cried, jumping 
off the wheel, cap in hand. “ I was just com- 
ing to thank you, but,” he stammered, — 
I — don’t know where to begin. I’m tickled 
nearly to death. It’s a beauty, sure 1 ” 

He looked down, growing red in the face, 
as he dug his toe in the gravel. Then he said, 
bashfully : “ You’ve more than put me on a 
wheel. Judge Parker. I can’t help feeling that 
you’ve started me on the right track for life, 
too. I’m glad you had that put on it.” 

His stubby fingers rested caressingly on the 
little silver plate between the handle-bars, on 
which was engraved the motto that had come 
to mean so much : '‘He that is faithful in that 
which is least is faithful also in much.” 


THE END. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall 
contain only the very highest and purest literature, — 
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them, 
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with 
them in their joys and sorrows. 

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well- 
known artists, and each volume has a separate attract- 
ive cover design. 

Each, I vol., i6mo, cloth ..... $0.50 

By ANNIE FELLOWS 10 NNSTON 

The Little Colonel. (Trade Mark.) ‘ 

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its 
heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little 
Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an 
old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and 
old family are famous in the region, This old Colonel 
proves to be the grandfather of the child. 

The Giant Scissors. 

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in 
France, — the wonderful house with the gate of The 
Giant Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa, 
the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is 
a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes 
shares with her the delightful experiences of the “ House 
Party ” and the “ Holidays.” 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky, 

Who Were the Little Colonel’s Neighbors. 
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an 
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is 
not, however, the central figure of the story, that place 
being taken by the “ two little knights.” 


2 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON {Continued) 

Cicely and Other Stories for Qirls. 

The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles 
will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for 
young people, written in the author’s sympathetic and 
entertaining manner. 

Aunt ’Liza’s Hero and Other Stories. 

A collection of six bright little stories, which will 
appeal to all boys and most girls. 

Big Brother. 

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of 
Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the 
theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of which 
has appealed to so many thousands. 

Ole riammy’s Torment. 

“Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “a 
classic of Southern life.” - It relates the haps and mis- 
haps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by 
love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. 

The Story of Dago. 

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, 
a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago 
tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mis- 
haps is both interesting and amusing. 

The Quilt That Jack Built. 

A pleasant little story of a boy’s labor of love, and 
hovv it changed the course of his life many years after 
it was accomplished. Told in Mrs. Johnston’s usual 
vein of quaint charm and genuine sincerity. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


3 


By EDITH ROBINSON 

A Little Puritan’s First Christmas. 

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how 
Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child 
of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam. 

A Little Daughter of Liberty. 

The author’s motive for this story is well indicated by 
a quotation from her introduction, as follows : 

“ One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul 
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another 
ride, — untold in verse or story, its records preserved 
only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of 
Anthony Severn was no less historic in its action or 
memorable in its consequences.” 

A Loyal Little flaid. 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary 
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, 
renders important services to George Washington. 

A Little Puritan Rebel. 

Like Miss Robinson’s successful story of “ A Loyal 
Little Maid,” this is another historical tale of a real girl, 
during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was 
governor of Massachusetts. 

A Little Puritan Pioneer. 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settle- 
ment at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds 
another to the list of favorites so well known to the 
young people. 

A Little Puritan Bound Girl. 

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great 
interest to youthful readers. 


4 


Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By QUID A (Louise de la Ramee) 

A Dog of Flanders \ a Christmas Story. 
Too well and favorably known to require description. 

The Nurnberg Stove. 

This beautiful story has never before been published 
at a popular price. 

A Provence Rose. 

A story perfect in sweetness and in grace. 

Findelkind. 

A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman. 

By MISS MULOCK 

The Little Lame Prince. 

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adven- 
tures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. 

Adventures of a Brownie. 

The story of a household elf who torments the cook 
and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the 
children who love and trust him. 

His Little Mother. 

Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant 
source of delight to them, and “ His Little Mother,” in 
this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts 
of youthful readers. 

Little Sunshine’s Holiday. 

An attractive story of a summer outing. “ Little Sun- 
shine ” is another of those beautiful child-characters for 
which Miss Mulock is so justly famous. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


5 


By JULIANA HO RATI A EWING 

Jackanapes. 

A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite 
and touching story, dear alike to young and old. 

Story of a Short Life. 

This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. 
It is a part of the world’s literature, and will never die. 

A Great Emergency. 

How a family of children prepared for a great emer- 
gency, and how they acted when the emergency came. 

The Trinity Flower. 

In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. 
Ewing’s best short stories for the young people. 

Madam Liberality. 

From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her 
chief delight in giving. 

By FRANCES MARGARET FOX 

The Little Giant’s Neighbours. 

A charming nature story of a “little giant” whose 
neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden. 

Farmer Brown and the Birds. 

A little story which teaches children that the birds 
are man’s best friends. 

Betty of Old Mackinaw. 

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to 
the little readers who like stories of “ real people.” 

riother Nature’s Little Ones. 

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or 
“ childhood,” of the little creatures out-of-doors. 


6 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE 

The Farrier’s Dog and liis Fellow, 

This story, written by the gifted young Southern 
woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of 
the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 

The Fortunes of the Fellow. 

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm 
of “ The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome 
the further account of the “ Adventures of Baydaw and 
the Fellow” at the home of the kindly smith. 

The Best of Friends. 

This continues the experiences of the Farrier’s dog and 
his Fellow, written in Miss Dromgoole’s well-known 
charming style. 

By FRANCES HODGES WHITE 

Helena’s Wonderworld. 

A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in 
the mysterious regions beneath the sea. 

Aunt Nabby’s Children. 

This pretty little story, touched with the simple humor 
of country life, tells of two children who were adopted 
by Aunt Nabby. 

By MARSHALL SAUNDERS 

For His Country. 

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved 
his country ; written with that charm which has endeared 
Miss Saunders to hosts of readers. 

Nita, the Story of an Irish Setter. 

In this touching little book. Miss Saunders shows 
how dear to her heart are all of God’s dumb creatures. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


; 

By OTHER AUTHORS 

The Flight of Rosy Dawn. By Pau- 
line Bradford Mackie. 

The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or “ Rosy Dawn,” 
a young Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this 
pleasant little story. 

Susanne. By Frances J. Delano. 

This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing 
charm the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E. 
Richards. 

nillicent in Dreamland. By edna s. 

Brainerd. 

The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent’s 
adventures in* Dreamland have much of the fascination 
of “Alice in Wonderland,” and all small readers of 
“ Alice” will enjoy making Millicent’s acquaintance. 

Jerry’s. Reward. By Evelyn Snead 

Barnett. 

This is an interesting and wholesome little story of 
the change that came over the thoughtless imps on Jef- 
ferson Square when they learned to know the stout- 
hearted Jerry and his faithful Peggy. 

Peggy’s Trial. By Mary Knight Potter. 

Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose 
rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her sub- 
sequent reconciliation to the dreaded “ new mother,” are 
most interestingly told. 

Loyalty Island. By Marian W. Wildman. 

An account of the adventures of four children and 
their pet dog on an island, and how they cleared their 
brother from the suspicion of dishonesty. 


8 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


Prince Yellowtop. By kate whiting patch. 

A pretty little fairy tale. 

The Little Christmas Shoe. ByjANE p. 

SCOTT-WOODRUFF. 

A touching story of Yule-tide. 

The Little Professor. By Ida Horton 

Cash. 

A quaint tale of a quaint little girl. 

The Seventh Daughter, By grace Wick- 
ham Curran. 

One of the best stories for little girls that has been 
published for a long time. 

Wee Dorothy. By laura updegraff. 

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion 
of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and 
setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the 
story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether 
wholesome in every way. 

The King of the Golden River : a 

Legend of Stiria. By John Ruskin. 

Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally 
intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon be- 
came known and made a place for itself. 

A Child’s Garden of Verses. By r. l. 

Stevenson. 

Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to 
need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this 
new and attractive edition. 

Little King Davie. By Nellie Hellis. 

The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make 
many boys thankful they are not in the same position. 
Davie’s accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and 
subsequent life are of thrilling interest. 


cosy COR ATE R SERIES 


9 


Rab and His Friends. By dr. John 

Brown. 

Doctor Brown’s little masterpiece is too well known 
to need description. . The dog Rab is loved by all 

The Sleeping Beauty, a modern ver- 
sion. By Martha B. Dunn. 

This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, 
intellectually “asleep” until she meets the “P'aiiy 
Prince,” reminds us of “ Ouida” at her best. 

The Water People. By Charles Lee 

Sleight. 

A fascinating story of the adventures of a sturdy 
reliant American boy among the “Water People.” 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 


The most delightful and interesting accounts possible 
of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, 
doings, and adventures. 

Each I vol., i2mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six 
full-page illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman. 

Price per volume . . . . . . $0.60 

“ Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruc- 
tion out of The Little Cousin Series. . . . Pleasing narra- 
tives give pictures of the little folk in the far-away lands in 
their duties and pleasures, showing their odd ways of 
playing, studying, their queer homes, clothes, and play- 
things. . . .” — Detroit News- Tribune. 


By MARY HAZ ELTON WADE 

Our Little Swiss Cousin. 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin. 

Our Little Italian Cousin. 

Our Little Siamese Cousin. 

Our Little Cuban Cousin. 

Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin. 

Our Little Philippine Cousin. 

Our Little Porto Rican Cousin. 

Our Little African Cousin. 

Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin. 

Our Little Indian Cousin. 

Our Little Russian Cousin. 

Our Little German Cousin. 

Our Little Irish Cousin. 

Our Little Turkish Cousin. 

Our Little Jewish Cousin. 

By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR 

Our Little Chinese Cousin. 

By ELIZABETH ROBERTS MacDONALD 
Our Little Canadian Cousin. 



OCT 2S 1904 




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